


Close Encounters of the Takashi Kind

by ayatsujik



Series: Threads and Times [6]
Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-18 05:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayatsujik/pseuds/ayatsujik
Summary: In which Natori meets a few of Natsume's special people, Natsume is a teenager, and Natori is marginally less awkward.





	Close Encounters of the Takashi Kind

**Author's Note:**

> For Natori Shuuichi's birthday, 2017/11/12! Never stop sparkling, precious. Thanks to @killjoyras for pointing me towards the element of 'Natsume consumes Natori media' in this piece, too (lol). 
> 
> Can be read as a standalone, but is also intended as a loose follow-up to [You Don't Say](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12436131), which you can read, along with its prequel, [Waxing Moon (Thirteenth Night)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12185040), if you want the get-together part of their relationship.

 

Natori paid Yatsuhara another visit on a day in late November, as autumn was gradually yielding to winter. The sky was a cold, clear blue above the trees shedding their bright leaves. All the harvest had been brought in from the nearby fields, which lay brown and fallow.

The Fujiwara residence was enjoying a peaceful mid-afternoon. Shigeru was at his office, and Touko was downstairs finishing up some housework. On the second floor, Nyanko-sensei was snoring happily atop a hot-water bottle.

Natsume, recently returned from school, was waiting by his window. He'd been trying to focus on homework, without much success. Catching sight of the tall figure in the distance confirmed that to be a hopeless endeavour.

He watched Natori approach, dressed in the familiar glasses and bucket hat and long brown jacket he donned to go incognito. Seeing him put a sweet, nervous flutter in his gut, the kind that, even now, still embarrassed him to think about.

Natori looked up at his window and waved to him, smiling, before opening the gate. He waved back, feeling his heart quicken. The doorbell rang, and Touko trilled out an immediate response. Natsume had already started downstairs when she called for him, and he descended in time to see Natori hand her, with a flourish, a gorgeously wrapped basket of flowers he'd produced out of the large paper bag in his hand - deep pink florets, their delicately shaped petals edged with a border of white.

Touko gasped, clasping her hands together in amused delight.

Natsume, from behind her, threw him the usual look that said, mingled with resignation, _must you always be like this_.

Natori removed his glasses, folding them into his shirt pocket, and twinkled back at him.

  
*

  
Touko placed the blossoms on the kitchen windowsill. Such lovely specimens of kalanchoe, she said; they would be so nice to look at while cooking. She'd prepared a pot of tea, and they sat down at the dining table with three steaming cups. Aside from the flowers, Natori had also brought Touko a small package. She opened it now, laughing off his apologies for how inadequate it was in comparison to the various treats she'd sent him, via Natsume Express, over the past months.

The package held a slim, two-layered cardboard box, which contained a letter set made with Japanese paper. The tray on top held a thin stack of vertical-ruled letter sheets, and the one below had several accompanying envelopes. The writing paper was a gold-speckled cream under pale brown lines, while the envelopes were patterned with flowering vines printed in the karakusa style, graceful ivory curlicues unfurling over a background of dark green. A little colour for the winter, Natori said.

The small business card that accompanied the stationery announced that everything was hand-made and hand-printed. Touko exclaimed over this, as well as the elegance of the print, and the paper's soft, strong texture.

"It's so well-made that even if you use a fountain pen, or calligraphy pen, it'll hardly bleed through," Natori told her, smiling in satisfaction at her pleasure. "Please try it and see. I've used this paper company for years now - they employ some wonderful artisans."

"Oh my," Touko said, admiring her present. "I'll have to think hard about who to write to - I've never used such a fine letter set before!"

"Please think of me when you use it, in any case, but perhaps you might also consider writing to me, if you happen to be so inclined?" Natori suggested, glitteringly. "A note from you would brighten my dull and lonely days immensely, Fujiwara-san."

Touko burst into laughter, raising a hand to her mouth as a demure shield for her amusement. "What on earth are you talking about, Natori-san, when a handsome young actor like you must be drowning in fan mail every day, I'm sure? Oh, and if you don't mind, please feel free to just call me Touko! I want all of Takashi-kun's friends to feel at home here!"

"I'd be honoured to, with your permission. But in that case, won't you also call me Shuuichi, please?"

"Certainly, Shuuichi-kun!" Touko said, beaming back at him.

"Won't you let me pour you some more tea, Touko-san?"

"Goodness, Shuuichi-kun's so kind, isn't he, Takashi-kun?"

"...," Natsume said, his temples aching from the excess of sparkles in the room.

  
*

  
Touko left to do her dinner shopping, promising to return with snacks before long. They went up to Natsume's room, where Nyanko-sensei had just emerged from his nap. He greeted them with a narrow-eyed stare, even as he trotted over to Natori and leap-clambered onto his shoulder.

"How have you been, piggy-cat?" Natori said, tickling his chin.

"Not well at all, Natori-brat, considering I have to watch this fool here moon over you every day."

" _Nyanko-sensei_ ," Natsume said, ominously, as Natori laughed.

"Is that so? Well, I suspect my shiki are in the same boat, so don't hold it against him."

"Hmph, just wait until you see all the things with your stupid face on it he's been collecting -"

Natsume smacked him so hard he fell off Natori's shoulder with a yowl.

"Ignore him, Shuuichi-san -" Natsume's eyes widened, and he broke off, clapping a hand to his mouth.

"Ah - I - sorry!"

Natori cocked his head to one side, his expression unreadable. "Why apologise? You can call me that too if you want, you know." He paused.

"...Takashi?"

Natsume, heat springing to his cheeks, turned away on the pretence of picking up a book he'd left on the tatami floor.

"How - how about we just stick to surnames?"

"Oh, is that better? That's fine, too."

Natori's voice carried a faint tinge of disappointment. Natsume's heart caught, and he stared at his desk in frozen silence.

What a silly response, he thought. And a childish one, especially since he'd started it. It had just...happened, the unfamiliar syllables slipping out of his mouth like fish from a pail. As if they were an echo of Natori's conversation with Touko, or as if they had just been there, waiting to escape his subconscious. Embarrassment was a physical reflex he'd never been able to suppress. 

He hadn't intended to object to Natori saying his name, either. Obviously, it wasn't strange if they used each other's first names, given how they were, well. How they'd advanced to this particular kind of relationship. Only - none of his peers used his name, unless they were talking to Touko or Shigeru. Other adults used it, but they weren't Natori; their voices weren't anywhere that low and light and expressive.

It was just a name. But he also knew that names had power, even if you didn't bind them with forbidden magic.

"HYUNGRRHNH," Nyanko-sensei expressed, a fusion of snort and groan, shivering irritably as he made his way towards the window. "I swear, you two are going to be the death of me. Hurry up and stop being idiots, will you? See you at dinner, Natsume - I'm off to drink!"

He twitched his stubby tail at them, and hopped out onto the roof, still grumbling.

Natsume struggled through impending panic, trying to think. Why did he have to be like this? If only he was a little more like Kitamoto or Nishimura or Tanuma, any of whom, surely, would have been able to laugh and say something cool in that situation. Something along the lines of  _you can call me whatever you want_.

In any case, he needed to apologise, didn't he? Especially if he'd hurt Natori's feelings. He'd act his age and say it was fine. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to face Natori.

"Natsume," Natori said, gently, before he could speak. "It's a nice day. Why don't we go for a short walk, too?"

Natsume nodded, a guilty sense of relief washing over him.

  
*

  
They crunched over leaves and fallen branches, walking side by side in quiet closeness. Making their way to nowhere in particular. Natsume couldn't help noticing that, by some unspoken concord, they'd closed the usual distance between them. Every occasional brush of their hands or shoulders sent a frisson through him.

He stole glances at Natori, half-envious, half-admiring, stray thoughts flitting through his head about height and shoulder width and the strong, clean lines of his face. Natori smiled back every time he caught his gaze. But there an oddly hesitant air about him, and Natsume was fairly sure it had to do with what had just transpired in his room.

I'm being stupid, he scolded himself. He needed to clear things up. He didn't want secrets, least of all with this person, who he sensed had enough for both of them. Was it possible, though, given Natori's response, that he  _didn't_ want to discuss it, and hence, that it was better to just let it go? But instinct told him that trying to gloss over it might only make himself feel worse. 

Being more-than-friends was complicated. Sometimes he found it harder to say what he wanted, because the stakes of their relationship had gotten higher. He didn't want to make any further missteps in communication. And he didn't want Natori to feel responsible for this bit of awkwardness. Neither did he want to force Natori into a conversation he didn't feel like having.   

He was still wondering about how and when to rectify this when a voice broke into his reverie, sultry and familiar.

"Why, if it isn't Natsume!"

There was a sudden scent of tobacco in the air. He looked up and saw Hinoe, pipe in hand, perched on a thick, low branch of a nearby oak tree. The purple-pinks and blues of her kimono coat were bright against the black bark.

"Hinoe," Natsume said, smiling. She blew him a kiss, and pointed her pipe at Natori.

"Who's that?"

"I'd like to know the same thing," Natori said, giving him a quizzical glance.

"A, uh, friend," Natsume said, helplessly, at a loss for how to explain each of their roles in his life. "Natori-san, this is Hinoe. Hinoe, this is Natori-san."

"A youkai friend, I see," Natori commented, raising a brow at him. "Unless you know people who sit in trees and smoke pipes, Natsume."

"A human child with spirit sight, and quite a strong aura, too," Hinoe observed, gracefully leaping down from her perch. She glided over to them, leaning an arm on Natsume's shoulder, and peered curiously at Natori, pursing her crimson lips. "But there's something fishy about this man, Natsume. He doesn't smell quite the same as your other humans. What _is_  he?"

"What I'd like to know is how Natsume made the acquaintance of such a beautiful lady," Natori smoothly returned, and bowed to her, doffing his hat as he did so.  
  
Hinoe stared, and laughed, a silvery peal of sound.

"Dear me," she said, taking a long draw of her pipe. "He's almost tolerable. For a man, that is."

Natori replaced his hat. "How kind of you to say so, especially since you also appear almost tolerable. For a youkai, that is."

Hinoe's eyes narrowed. Natori smiled, guilelessly. Natsume was about to intervene, when that task was taken over by an abrupt rustling in the bushes behind them. He had a feeling he knew why, a sense confirmed when he turned to see the cheerful faces of the mid-ranks popping out at them.

"Natsume-sama! Natsume-sama!"

"I thought it would be you two," Natsume sighed. He could feel Natori's gaze on his back, questioning, but the mid-ranks had already turned their attention to him.

"Don't know who you are, sir," Tsurutsuru said, jovially, "but since you can see Hinoe-dono, you can see us too, and we're Natsume-sama's loyal foot soldiers! The Circle of Dogs!" He winked his lone eye conspiratorially. 

"Doggies! Goggies!" Ushi babbled, enthusiastically bobbing his horned head.

"Circle of Dogs?"

"We're there to fight for Natsume-sama and to solve his problems, we loyal servants, any and all the time!" Tsurutsuru chirped, striking a pose with his fan.

"You never told me you had a secret army of shiki, Natsume."

"No, that's really not what they are," Natsume sighed again, fighting the urge to rub his temples. He hoped fervently that a) no more of his self-declared not-shiki would appear, and that b) no one would figure out Natori was actually an exorcist. "They're - they just want excuses for drinking, and I'm good for that."

"Drink! Drink!" Ushi cheered.

"By the way, we just saw your cat-ball guardian around here a little while ago, too, Natsume," Hinoe broke in. "He was grumbling about how irritating you human children are in heat. What have you been up to, you naughty boy?"

"In _what_?" Natsume choked.

"Actually, come to think of it, Madara did mention a name..." Hinoe squinted at Natori, her brow furrowing. Natori gave her a dangerously radiant smile, and pulled Natsume over to him, hooking an arm around his back. 

Hinoe's eyes widened into pools of dismay.

"Natsume, wait, don't tell me - this Natori fellow, is _this_  the human you're in heat for?"

" _Stop saying that!_ " Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natori press his free hand over his mouth, his shoulders trembling.

"Heat! Heat!" The mid-ranks chimed in, waving their fans and cackling. "Springtime for Natsume-sama! That means sake! Sake!"

"How could this be? I just can't believe it," Hinoe mourned. "Natsume, what on earth's so good about this man? In the first place, he's nowhere as beautiful as you are!"

"Sakeeee! Lots of it! With Natsume-sama and his lover!"

"Looover! Looover!"

Natori stifled a sound suspiciously like a snort.

"ALL OF YOU CLEAR OUT! NOW!"

Beet-faced, Natsume pushed Natori away, stalking off in the opposite direction from the riotous youkai. Natori followed, laughing openly. The mid-ranks' cheers (mournful sighs, in Hinoe's case) and promises to arrange a proper drinking session in the very near future echoed behind them.

"What a fun group you've got there," Natori said merrily, as he caught up with him. "More friends, Natsume?"

"They're like that all the time," Natsume mumbled, "but they mean well. I think. It's hard to explain."

"I see the kitty's not the only youkai on your side." Natori reached out, closing his hand over Natsume's. "I'm going to have to get used to this, aren't I."

Natsume stopped, a shadow crossing his face.

"No need to look like that," Natori said, the gentleness back in his voice. "That's just what you are, isn't it?"

Startled, Natsume turned to face him. A black streak, small and squiggle-like, had settled on his right collarbone; the smile on his lips was slight but real.

Seeing Natori like this recalled a fragment of an exchange they'd shared, some months ago, under an almost-full moon.  _I can learn_ , Natori had said, his eyes as serious and intent as they were now. Saying more than he had words for. 

The tension in Natsume's chest dissipated, replaced by a warmth that filled every corner of him.

"Thank you," Natsume said, softly. He squeezed Natori's hand tight, interlacing their fingers, and moved in close enough to lean his head on his shoulder. The canvas fabric of Natori's jacket, under his cheek, was worn slightly rough. It smelled faintly of rain and cologne.

"Touko-san should be home soon," Natsume murmured, in lieu of trying to find words he didn't have.

"Let's head back, then," Natori said, brushing the fingers of his other hand across his cheek.

  
*

  
"You live alone, don't you, Shuuichi-kun?" Touko inquired, refilling their cups of tea.

"Indeed I do. My schedule is so haphazard, it's probably for the best."

"Is that so," Touko murmured, worriedly. "You did mention today's been your first day off in months. You're not overworking, are you? Do make sure you get enough rest."

"Please don't worry, Touko-san. I'm perfectly fine, and I'm enjoying the drama series we're currently shooting."

"I remember Takashi-kun said you never have any food in your house," Touko said, frowning. She shook her head at Natori as she arranged plates of fresh manju and senbei crackers and pear slices on the table. "That's not good, Shuuichi-kun. You need proper home-cooked meals sometimes. Do let Takashi-kun know when you're around these parts, so you can come and eat dinner with us."

She put her hands on her hips and gave him a firm look, before taking a seat. "I mean it, all right?"

Natori hesitated, a strange shadow flitting over his face. He recovered in the next instant, and bowed to her.

"Thank you very much for such a wonderful offer, Touko-san. Takashi-kun is so lucky he has you - I'm starting to get jealous of him."

"What a thing to say," Touko laughed. "You just have to visit us more often, Shuuichi-kun!"

Somehow it was fine this way, Natsume thought, absently gazing at him. He wondered why /Takashi-kun/ sounded the same as it did when said by his adopted mother, with the same level of light affection and familiarity. Did a suffix make such a difference? But then Shigeru called him /Takashi/, too, without ever making him feel embarrassed. Which meant, after all, that there was something about Natori's voice - 

Natori shot him a glance, and deliberately moved his knee under the table so it bumped into his. Natsume jumped.

"Oh my, what's wrong, Takashi-kun?"

"Na - nothing!" He shot Natori a glare. Its recipient ignored it, twinkling as he took a sip of tea.

Touko looked at them, smiling.

Natsume observed the lizard flicker down Natori's cheek, and felt a moment of alarm before he remembered that, of course, it was invisible to Touko.

He knew, with a sharp twinge of guilt, that he would need to continue keeping secrets from her and Shigeru. The inventory of what he couldn't say now included the true nature of his relationship with Natori, and the circumstances that had occasioned it.

How much longer he would need to hide these things, he didn't know. And for now, he didn't want to worry about that. For now it was enough to watch his adopted mother and his special person (the best term he could currently manage, every other commonsense option being overwhelming) together. He drank in the sight of how Natori gradually relaxed in Touko's presence; how she spoke to him as if he were the son of a friend, or a slightly older version of Natsume's schoolmates. They discussed Natori's acting work and Touko's hobbies in a back-and-forth punctuated with sparkles. Touko urged fruit and pastries onto their guest, which he politely accepted. He kept glancing at Natsume throughout, as if for reassurance, or to include him in the conversation. It was cute, really, although he suspected Natori wouldn't want to hear that.

Touko made drawing people out of themselves into an art. She made it look so easy, the way she used her gentle concern and ready amusement to pave avenues of communication. It was almost a kind of magic.

Natori eventually broke the spell, glancing at the clock on the wall and making a regretful face.

"Touko-san, I'm having such a good time I don't want to leave, but I'm afraid I have to go soon. I'm sure I've already outstayed my welcome, in any case."

"Nonsense! This has been so nice - are you sure you won't stay for dinner, Shuuichi-kun?" Touko asked, coaxingly. "My husband would enjoy meeting you, and it wouldn't be any trouble at all."

"I'm terribly sorry about having to turn down such a tempting offer - I really wish I could. But there's something I must take care of tonight."

"Oh, is that so? I see...well, you'll just have to come another time, then."

"I will, if I really may impose on your hospitality again, Touko-san. Thank you for all the treats."

"Don't stand on ceremony, Shuuichi-kun," Touko said, smiling. "I'm so happy I got to know you a little better today. You've done a lot for Takashi-kun, and he's so fond of you, too."

"Touko-san," Natsume protested weakly.

"I think he's done far more for me than I've been able to for him, Touko-san." Natori bowed to her, and smiled at Natsume, who was very obviously trying not to fidget. "Otherwise, I feel the same."

"You're going to walk Shuuichi-kun to the station, aren't you, Takashi-kun?" Touko said, turning to him with a twinkle in her eye. "Make sure you wear your muffler, now."

  
*

  
They made their way to the station under a sky shaded scarlet and ochre, their shadows long on the ground and their breath faintly visible. Natori had buttoned up his jacket; the sweet, heavy air of a late autumn afternoon had plunged into the sharp chill of evening.

"Sorry you didn't get to see Shigeru-san today," Natsume said. "Next time, maybe. He said he'd like to meet you, too."

"Did he?" Natori's voice was a touch too nonchalant, and Natsume looked at him suspiciously.

"What exactly are you busy with tonight?"

"Well...I've got to give my agent a call, and go over a script for tomorrow's shoot -"

"You just didn't want to stay, did you?"

"No!" A pause. "No, really, I did. That part was true. However." Natori sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

"To tell you the whole truth...this sounds silly, but I think I'm afraid of meeting Shigeru-san."

It was a surprising confession, so uncharacteristically frank for Natori that Natsume stared, taken aback. Natori glanced at him, averting his eyes in the next instant. He laughed, short and sharp and self-deprecating.

Natsume, studying his sombre face, had a flash of insight. It wasn't such a surprising thing for Natori to say, when he thought about it, especially knowing what he'd endured with his own father. Natori didn't explain further: he probably knew Natsume understood, too.

"I'm sorry, Natsume. It's ridiculous of me, isn't it? Running away like a child. But I wasn't planning to do anything more than say hello to Touko-san today - I didn't expect to spend so much time talking to her, much less an invitation to dinner." Natori half-smiled, ruefully. 

"I think...I'd prefer to do this slowly, if that's all right with you." He paused again, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Honestly, I don't know how you're supposed to meet the parents of your sweetheart. I think it went well just now, but if it did, that was all because of Touko-san. Maybe mothers are easier to talk to, but she's so very kind."

Natsume nodded, savouring the glow that the praise of Touko and the word /sweetheart/ lit in him. He couldn't suppress a smile. Coming from Natori, those expressions sounded oddly quaint, in the way his interpretation of being grown-up could sometimes be. (He treasured this knowledge as one of the many things that didn't show up in his on-screen presence.)

He loved Shigeru no less than he did Touko, but he suspected Natori's concerns weren't completely unfounded. Even with the best of intentions, his adopted father's brand of kindness occasionally manifested in awkward ways. Shigeru never said much, and his expressions of affection were often tinged with gruffness. He didn't usually watch dramas or movies, unless Touko wanted him to. In all likelihood it would take time for him to feel comfortable around Natori, and vice versa, if they ever met - and they eventually would, Natsume knew, if Touko had any say in the matter. 

Aside from these considerations, he couldn't help feeling pleased at the implied _I've never done this before_  in Natori's words, how it also meant _you're the first_. He already knew as much, but the reminder made him less anxious. 

Perhaps that was being unreasonable, he thought. How much more did he want than what he already had, after all? But he couldn't help being happy. It was nice to think that Natori was opening up to him, bit by bit. It was even nicer to think that they had more kinds of first experiences to share. That there were other people - and youkai - he wanted Natori to meet. Someday. Whenever the time was right. 

"It's totally fine, Natori-san," he said, giving his jacket sleeve a reassuring tug. "I understand. Thank you for telling me."

"Thank _you_ for wanting me to meet your family," Natori replied, his eyes soft. He reached out to ruffle Natsume's hair. The gesture slipped into a caress, his fingers a warm, light weight on the skin between Natsume's muffler and the nape of his neck.

All right, Natsume decided. Enough of being stupid. You had to speak when you needed to, even at the risk of getting it wrong.  

"By the way, um," he said, and fidgeted. "Sorry. Uh, about this afternoon. That thing. I didn't mean - I wasn't used to it, that's all. But I, I wouldn't mind if we went by our first names. Sometimes. When we're alone. Er." He took a deep breath to halt the tumble of colliding words. "If you want."

"Are you sure?" Natori said, giving him a crooked smile. "We don't need to, you know. Only - I do like it. Your name. And hearing you say mine, too."

They'd reached a part of the road not far from the station lined with a row of tall, sturdy trees, whose wide shadows provided a convenient screen away from the streetlamps. Natsume looked around, making sure no one was in sight. Then he stood on his toes, hands braced against Natori's shoulders, and kissed him.

He was getting used to this, at least. The cool, soft feel of Natori's mouth under his was a more familiar sensation every time he encountered it. Natsume let himself relax into the kiss, and felt a pair of arms slide around his waist, pulling him close.

"Takashi," Natori murmured against his ear, a tickle of warm breath that sent a tingle down his spine.

He would get used to this, too, as unbelievable as all of it could sometimes be. Maybe. Part of him also thought it would be fine if he never did.

Natsume closed his eyes, focusing on the insistent beat of his own heart, and the warmth of the long, lean body pressed against his.  
  
"I'm glad you came to visit me, Shuuichi-san."

"I am too," Natori said, brushing his lips across his forehead. "I'll come again. Oh, and, Takashi?"

"Hmm?"

"The kitty said you have things with my face on them?" Natori asked, his smile acquiring a sudden, wicked edge of sparkle.

"See you later, then," Natsume said flatly, pushing him away. "You've got to be home early, right?"

"Do you like looking at me that much? I do too, you know. Looking at you, I mean."

" _Good night_ , Shuuichi-san."

Natori's laugh was genuine, this time, and Natsume let himself smile along with it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The idea that switching to calling each other by first names causes Japanese couples who've used only surnames to address each other before significant embarrassment (and major cuteness, for the reader) is a standard trope in BL, but it never gets old. For me, anyway. *^_^*
> 
> 2\. On [the lovely, curious history of karakusa patterns](http://www.aisf.or.jp/~jaanus/deta/k/karakusamon.htm).
> 
> 3\. Second fic for Natori's birthday, and loosely set before this: [What Blossoms](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12690120).


End file.
